Eat Your Heart Out
by power blossom
Summary: "You're bossy tonight," says Jason, eyes dark. Leo rolls his eyes. "It's my turn for once, you frickin' control freak," he responds, and leans in for a kiss. [Post-HoH PWP]


**warnings: excessive swearing, rimming, implied felching. the argo II is basically a booze cruise in this, so please suspend your disbelief and enjoy this shameless porn.**

* * *

><p>Leo's two crappy beers in, and he's feeling pretty pleased with his lot.<p>

They're two days out from Athens and having a quiet night for once, eating tacos leftover from dinner together in their underwear and arguing over the football game neither of them actually cares about playing on the TV while the others head out.

Earlier Jason shoved half the minibar to one side—"No," he said, all but wagging his finger which, give Leo a break, man, he just saved their best friends from death by closed elevator—and put in a 6-pack of low calorie, low alcohol, low fun beers to chill ready for later on. Like, if you can't party after saving your ass for the umpteenth time, when the hell can you?

It's later on now, and the beer might be weak, but it's crisp and cold and it still feels like a reward, not least because it was actually Jason's idea.

Leo stretches out on his bed, flexing his feet to make his ankles crack, and listens to Jason pissing like a racehorse, the sound bouncing off the tiles. The bathroom door's wide open so Jason can still hear the TV even though it's just commercials, and the harsh fluorescent glow spills out over the carpet into the dim of the rest of the room.

God, bathroom lights are the worst, exaggerating every single blemish or rogue coarse hair and turning skin too red and too yellow and too white and too purple all at once. Leo might be able to design a flying ship, but not even he can conquer the age-old problem of bad lighting.

Leo closes his eyes and lets himself go all loose and 's still going, wow.

The room is verging on too cold, because Jason says it's more natural for sleeping. He read an article in one of the SkyMall magazines Leo put in every room as a joke, and now he's an expert, obviously. It makes Leo's skin prickle, sensitized, turns the quivery feeling simmering in his belly up another couple of notches.

The toilet flushes, followed by the sound of running water and the quiet flop of a towel being dropped on the floor. Leo opens his eyes again.

Jason's bent over in front of the fridge that Leo had surreptitiously snuck into his cabin in the final stages of construction of the _Argo II_. He's fussing about and making the glass bottles clank together. His back is sleek. The waistband of his boxers is all jacked up at the back, little white label sticking up.

Leo wants to fuck him cross-eyed.

Fresh beers in hand, Jason settles back onto the bed next to Leo and grabs the remote back like it's his due. His thighs are round in his boxer briefs, legs crossed at the ankle, all easy and relaxed. He looks good, and Leo is still so glad, and yeah, a little surprised, that Leo gets to look as much as he wants.

One of those commercials that's like 10 decibels louder than everything else comes on, a temporary distraction.

"Beer me," Leo says without looking, hand outstretched. When no beer is instantly forthcoming, he makes insistent grabby hands, eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Say please," says Jason, voice flat. Leo doesn't have to look over to know the imperious curve of his eyebrow, but all the same there's a clink and a soft shush-fizz and then the bottle is pressed into his hand.

"Thanks, babe," says Leo, obnoxiously sweet. He purses his lips and makes kissy noises.

The bottle cap clips him in the ear with a sharp sting.

"Kiss my ass," says Jason. His mouth quirks and he tongues the point of his canine like he's just delivered a total zinger. It's amazing how much he sucks.

Leo rolls the bottle between his palms, wet with condensation. "If you want," he says, all casual, like he hasn't been thinking about it all goddamn day, like his dick isn't thick and obvious in his underwear.

* * *

><p>See, when Leo came back to the room after breakfast this morning he was greeted by the always-welcome sight of Jason on his hands and knees, crouched on the floor next to Leo's—their—bed with his back to the door, unheeding of Ivlivs in sword form on the carpet and swearing like a fishwife.<p>

"Uh, buddy?" Leo said, dropping his gloves on the desk next to his plans for updating the rec room. The dirty soles of Jason's sneakers stared up at him, somehow baleful.

"Can't find my Camp Jupiter shirt," said Jason, without turning around. "I just saw it the other day, I swear to god, if Percy tries to start something..." he tailed off, muttering as he lifted the heavy comforter and ducked his head under it.

"Did you try your room? Or your closet?" Leo asked without thinking, somewhat preoccupied with how Jason had dropped his chest to the ground to get a better look under the bed, back arched steeply, ass rising high in the air and sweatpants pulling tight, tighter, until the lines of his underwear stood out clearly underneath.

Leo's palms itched to settle on the trim dip of his waist and pull him in tight and fuck, rut.

Jason's knees skidded wider. The seams strained over the flexing sinews of his thighs. Leo was pretty sure he was going to die.

"Ugh, Hazel will kill me if she thinks I'm ditching sparring," Jason muttered, mostly to himself. His back arched a little more as he stuck an arm under the mattress and rooted around. "And, hey. Did you forget that I've basically been living in here with you? It's more likely to be in your closet than mine."

"Uh," Leo said, helpless.

"D'you wanna stop just standing there like a moron and help me?"

Actually, Leo wanted to push Jason's stupid face into the carpet, carefully chosen because it could be easily pulled up and dry cleaned, which is very useful to demigods who bleed a lot. Right then, Leo couldn't have cared less about the laundry practicality of his flooring choices. Leo wanted to force Jason to stay down, and then bury his face between his legs, lick and suck and bite, wanted to ruin him, make him take it and, and—he'd grunted, involuntarily. Oops.

Jason looked back over his shoulder, hair all messed up from wrestling with the sheets and glaring like a complete crank. He's never good in the morning.

Leo knew Jason could see everything he'd been thinking right there on his face, so he didn't even bother trying to hide it. There was no point, what with his gigantic boner and all. Like, it was a crying shame they didn't have time to put it to use, Leo could've hammered nails with that thing.

Or just nailed Jason.

Jason's glare went hot. "What," he said.

"What," said Leo back, lightly, like he'd actually been helping rather than just perving.

Jason rocked back to sit on his heels. He looked considering. Well, he still looked pissy, mostly, but his eyes were burning, flicking from Leo's mouth to his groin and back up—Leo wet his lip with a sweep of his tongue, dirty pool, and watched Jason zero in—and Leo could see the way his ears were flushing.

"Help me find my shirt or Hazel's gonna come looking for me," he said, the tiniest wobble in his voice betraying his interest.

Leo chose, therefore, to believe that _I'll thank you later _was implied.

* * *

><p>The shirt was, of course, in a really obvious place, like, did you even check the dirty-clothes pile before you started rolling around on the floor and losing your shit, dude? And, also of course, Jason first refused to admit that it could possibly have been there all along and then when that didn't work blew the whole thing off, which was par for the course, really.<p>

Leo let him get away with this bullshit, largely because he was distracted by the constant image of Jason's ass in those pants, going round and round in his head like a goddamn carousel.

An ass carousel. Mmm.

* * *

><p>So, yeah.<p>

Leo's blood has been thrumming all day, low level and background, but now it's coming to the fore. He looks at Jason meaningfully and takes a long pull, fingers high on the neck of his bottle.

Jason snorts into his beer. Says, dryly, "Oh, you're so smooth, man. Regular Casanova, right here."

"You said it, bro," Leo says, hooking his calf over Jason's hip and dragging him bodily closer. Jason's getting hard now too, hot through stretched cotton, and Leo just wants to get this party started already.

"That is really not what I sai—" Jason starts, gearing up to cockblock himself, but Leo talks over him, says loudly, "Shut up and let me eat you out."

That should work, because Jason really likes being rimmed and it's been a while, but just in case it's not enough Leo quickly runs his hand down Jason's stomach and into his boxers, scratching through the crinkle of hair there. Once he's satisfied that Jason's not going to keep going regardless—you never can tell with him—he stretches further to graze his fingertips over the base of Jason's cock, velvety and thickening quickly.

Jason makes a guttural sound and pushes against Leo, leaning in to kiss him with his mouth wet and beery and so good.

Leo wins. Aww yeah.

* * *

><p>There's an icy soggy patch soaking through Leo's boxers thanks to Jason bracing his beer against his hip like an asshole while he makes out with Leo's neck—seriously, dude, put the damn thing down before you start shit, this is so basic—and it's uncomfortable, yeah, but it's also highlighting the fact that they aren't naked yet and that is total bullshit.<p>

"Total bullshit," Leo says, breathier than he'd perhaps like, because Jason is doing something _rude_ with his tongue to that spot on Leo's neck now, the one they agreed he isn't allowed to touch anymore when they're in the shower because it makes Leo's knees buckle every goddamn time and that's a mortifying accident just waiting to happen.

"What?" says Jason, pausing to look up at him, one eye squintier than the other, and oh, yeah. Sometimes Leo forgets that other people aren't privy to his entire thought process.

"Give me that and get naked already," he says, tugging at Jason's bottle until he pays attention and finally lets go.

"You're bossy tonight," says Jason, eyes dark.

"It's my turn for once, you frickin' control freak," Leo says, leaning over him to stick the beer on the side.

He seems to have misplaced his own beer somewhere, and he hopes it's not actually _in_ the bed. He's done that a billion times before. It's never pretty, and just sticking a towel over it is not good enough, _Jason_.

Taking advantage of Leo's distraction like the competitive boyfriend he is, Jason's fingers skate over Leo's side, bumping over his ribs and unerringly finding the tender bruise just under Leo's armpit where he managed to get whacked by an Xbox controller yesterday.

It's blue rather than green, so it's deep and sore, and Jason only has to run his hand over it to get a reaction, the fucker, he knows Leo can't help it. Leo holds his breath, ribcage pushing out and pressing into Jason harder for a beat, achy and sweet, before smacking his hand away.

"Stop cheating," he says.

Jason's smile says _never_, but then he does this ridiculous little shimmy to work his underwear over his ass and down his legs without moving away from where he's pushed up tight against Leo, rubbing his dick all over him as he does it.

Leo just unceremoniously yanks his own boxers down and kicks them away with more force than he really meant to, sending them flying.

They catch on the corner of the TV and hang there, droopily.

"Nice," Jason says, and his thumbs rub fleetingly into the little hollow behind each of Leo's ears, cupping his cheeks just quickly, just _hi_.

It's kind of cute until those same thumbs press hard into the hinge of Leo's jaw and force his mouth open on a gasp, and then Jason surges in, fierce and eager and dirty and Leo just can't get enough of that.

Jason's so smooth and solid under his hands, heavy on top of him as Leo rolls onto his back and pulls him into the cradle of his legs, wrapping around Jason and letting him grind into the crook of his thigh while they make out fast and furious, all tongue and cracking jaw.

Leo slides his hands down Jason's back and cops a feel even though he's going to be getting all up in there with his face in a minute, because Jason's ass is majestic and deserves to be groped at every possible opportunity. Plus, it means he can feel the coil of muscle and tension in Jason as he rocks into him, all that contained power just for Leo as he pulls Jason in closer, encouraging. _Hell_ yeah. It's one of his favorite things about Jason fucking him, how strong he is, big and determined.

"Thought it was your turn," Jason says, mouthing at Leo's neck as he thrusts a little harder.

Leo bites his lip because god, that feels good, but, "It still is, jackass," he says, letting his fingertips dip down into the crack and rub over Jason's asshole.

Jason's head drops on a groan, and Leo wins again.

Maybe he should get up and check the deadbolt and chain before this really gets going. Better safe than sorry, and oh, would they be sorry, what with how Jason would be in prison for mass murder and Leo would be one of the dead. The world would weep.

"Hold that thought," Leo says.

When Leo comes back, Jason's propped up against the headboard and framing his asshole with index and ring finger, middle finger curled with the joint poised to sink inside, shining with lube and ready to go.

Goddamn it.

"Look at me," Jason says, voice low, which, come _on_, dude.

Leo rolls his eyes.

Jason rolls his eyes in return and then in a pretty amateur move ruins his own bitchface by pushing in steadily, knuckle-deep straight off. His eyelids shutter a little but his gaze is still burning dark and intent as ever, fixed on Leo through his lashes. Leo couldn't look away if he tried.

God. Leo gives his own dick a few comforting pulls and feels the heat jumble in the pit of his stomach. He shivers even though he's not cold anymore; sweat bursting feverish at his temples, the small of his back.

It's only when Jason flirts with pressing in a second that Leo gets with the plan.

He lurches forward on his knees, ready to climb on top and get involved, be a team player, but Jason pushes him back with a foot on his stomach and holds it there, says, "Show me you want it," because he's a controlling lunatic, and when he says _jump _Leo says _bite me, buddy _but jumps all the same, high as he can.

"Jason," Leo says, helplessly, watching as Jason rolls his raised knee to the side before cupping his dick and balls out of the way with his free hand so Leo can see it all; the long, pulled groove of muscle in his thigh, his own fingers stretching himself open below, the glimpse of slick smeared skin glinting in the yellow bedside light.

It's safe to say that Leo wants it.

The air-conditioning rattles into life and then starts a new cycle, blowing gustily.

Jason takes in a quick breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as his head tips back. His tongue wets his lips in a little flicker of pink and glisten. Two fingers, now, and Leo can see the v-gap between them as they spread.

"You're a bastard," Leo hisses, shuffling forward as much as Jason's braced foot will allow, knees nudging his inner thighs. Leo's stroke falters a little as he moves but he doesn't stop the grip and squeeze of his fist on his dick, slowing down and getting fancy as he does what he's told, makes sure Jason can see just how into this he is, how wet he's getting already.

Jason watches him down the length of his nose, looking pleased with himself. What an asshole.

"Let me kiss you, you fuck," says Leo with a huff.

Jason smiles at that, sort of weirdly sweet, and he lets Leo fold his knee back into his chest and loom in over him until their mouths can meet, necks straining.

It's awkward as hell, and god knows what Jason's hand is doing trapped down there, and Leo is well aware that he has approximately ten seconds before Jason starts griping about his back, but it's amazing all the same. Given the chance, Leo would kiss Jason, like, all the time.

Too soon, Jason turns his face away from Leo's mouth, smearing spit across his scarred lip, and says, "C'mon, Leo."

"Pushy," Leo says, but sits back, Jason's leg slung over his shoulder now. His fist bumps the back of Jason's thigh as he jacks himself again, watching the way Jason's knuckles bunch, bold, the flex and twist of his forearm telegraphing the renewed rub of his fingers inside.

Obviously it's hot as ever-loving fuck when Jason fingers himself—like, holy shit, you don't even know—but Leo also appreciates the chance to give his wrist a break. It gets pissy sometimes if he holds it at certain angles for too long.

"Gonna give it to me, stud?" Jason mocks, propping up higher on his other elbow, eyes black and challenging. He bites his lip, crooked mouth drawing up in a smirk as Leo's eyes track it helplessly. "I'm tight, man, so tight, you gonna open me up? You gonna make me take it?"

It sounds kind of ridiculous, delivered in that monotone, but that doesn't stop it from being blisteringly hot, Jason talking like that. He has always known how to mash every one of Leo's buttons. Like, other people might push with a fingertip. Jason uses his entire fist.

Leo's skin blazes, so easy for it.

"Yeah," he says, voice thick, and drops to his belly between Jason's spread legs. Two can play at that game. "Gonna get my mouth on you, get my tongue so deep in you, and when you can't take it anymore, I'm gonna put my dick you, make you come on my cock. You want that, Jason?"

Judging by the choppy moan and the way Jason's hips flex instinctively, the answer is yes. Fucking _ace_.

Leo lets himself grind down a little against the bed, rough pressure offering a little relief from the insistent throb of his dick, but this is not the time to get distracted.

There's an aging green bite mark high on Jason's inner thigh, last week's. He sucks it, bringing blood back to the surface in a sweet ache. He's not the only one with a thing for bruises.

Jason's breath goes _sha-sha-sha _through his teeth and he draws his hand away eagerly, fingers making a filthy-wet sound as they slip out. Leo bites at the ball of his thumb, so close to where Jason wants him, then stops.

He exhales, damp and hot, and watches Jason's dick twitch in response, goosebumps rising over his flushing skin.

"Urgh," Jason groans, "C'mon," and makes an impatient _have at it_ gesture, because he is the only person in the world getting salty over literally having his ass kissed. "C'mon," he says again.

"Yeah? Maybe I wanna look some more," says Leo, contrary. He might have been imagining Jason on his knees for this earlier, but he likes it this way too, likes the way he gets to see Jason's stupid red face, all scrunched up and turned on.

Jason's cock _jumps _at that, even as the man himself scowls. He likes to be looked at it; he's such an exhibitionist, and he's not fooling anybody.

Luckily for Jason, Leo does not believe in self-denial, and he's wanted this so badly all day, probably been thinking about since the start of the week. He parts Jason's ass with his thumbs and dives on in, gets right to it, sloppy and dumb from the off.

At first Leo mostly tastes lube, unpleasantly cloying and artificial, but Leo's finding it hard to care because underneath Jason is blood-hot and vital and_ his_ in this really base, primal way, and it turns him on so much his lungs ache.

He squeezes Jason's ass appreciatively, pulling him further open so he can really get in there with the flat of his tongue, broad and nasty.

Jason makes a weird noise, half-choke, half-laugh and shudders, shoulders pressing back hard into the pillow as his head thumps back, "Your dirty fucking mouth, Leo, you're so good at this for me—"

Leo pulls off, just to be irritating, says, "Yeah?" and grins like an idiot when Jason fails to stifle an actual growl. Jason kicks him, heel thudding back against his shoulder.

It's still pretty early in the evening, but with the heavy drapes closed over the portholes, the room is dark, just the warm glow of the bedside lamp lighting their way. It feels oddly like it could be the middle of the night, those sexy, secretive hours when the morning seems a long way away, like they've got all the time in the world. Soon, though, Hazel will come knocking, looking for her sparring partner.

Jason's gearing up to get loud, can't seem to help it, promising sounds catching in his throat. He scrubs his hand roughly over his face, through his hair, twists and clutches his fingers into the pillow above his head.

This really does it for him, which in turn really, really does it for Leo. That's probably kind of pathetic to some people, but whatever, Leo will fight them.

"Having fun?" Leo says, biting at that old bruise again, "Let me hear it," and Jason throws his other forearm over his eyes like he's embarrassed and kicks Leo in the shoulder again, but his moans keep coming all the same, low and thready and continuous, and his hips flex and rock, riding back against Leo's mouth demandingly.

Maybe sometime they'll try it another way, oh man, Jason straddling his face and taking it for himself, bossy, like he needs any more encouragement to shove Leo around, put Leo where he wants him and make him work for it. Leo has to reach down and give himself a comforting squeeze at the thought of it, dick skidding wetly through his fist.

The inside of Jason's legs and the crease of his ass are beginning to turn pink and red with friction. It's pretty mind blowing.

When Leo starts really fucking into him with his tongue pressing deep as he can, jaw achingly wide, Jason's thighs come flying up, squeezing hard against Leo's ears and caging his head firmly in place. Leo allows it for a moment because good god_damn_ that's hot but, you know, he really doesn't want to die like that dude in Goldeneye. That would suck.

He forces Jason back down again, forearms braced, feeling the power in Jason's legs like a steel trap as they strain to stay tight against him.

"Goddamn it—I can't—Leo!" Jason's glaring blearily down at him over the length of his body, face hectic red. His hair is plastered to his forehead, curled dark against the flush, and he's so hard, god, thick cock leaking steadily and tapping his belly with every fretful shift of his hips.

Leo wants to eat him alive, wants to open every drawer and door in the place and slam them closed, wants to pull the curtains down and show everyone what he does to Camp Jupiter's perfectly put together praetor.

Leo grins against Jason, pressure of his teeth hard and digging where Jason is so, so sensitive now, hears Jason suck in a high-pitched, whistling breath, before he drags his mouth away, teeth scraping roughly over Jason's spit-slick skin, and bites fiercely at the meat of his ass.

Jason groans and makes a sudden panicked grab for his own dick, squeezing hard, and oh hey, Leo realizes that he could totally make Jason come without a hand on him. In fact, he almost just did. Jason's _shaking. _Leo's stomach goes all hot and shivery.

"You love this," Leo says, staying in close to Jason's body, mouth brushing Jason's skin wetly as he speaks, "I could get you off just like this, mess you up. What do you think, Jason? Want to lose it like that, come all over yourself from just my mouth?"

Jason flaps his free hand down, clumsily pats over his own thigh and Leo's shoulders until he finds his hair and then grabs a handful to yank Leo up his body, says, "Leo, Leo, can you just—"

His eyebrows are drawn in tight, face strained, and his voice cracks and rises as Leo reaches down to push his thumb inside him.

It goes easily, so sloppy-wet from Leo's mouth and the earlier lube, and Leo feels his gut twist with want, white and sparking. He crooks it sharply so his knuckle forces Jason wider from the inside, dragging against his rim. Heavy-feeling pressure, just like Jason likes it. His body curls in, thighs so tense, and Leo is caught between soothing and winding him tighter.

As always, winding him tighter wins out.

"I'm sorry, man, what do you want? You gotta be clearer with your instructions, there," says Leo, smiling brightly.

He's pretty impressed with himself, considering that he can feel his own pulse pounding angrily in his dick and his whole body is strung tight with the need to hurry up and get inside Jason already.

Jason is not similarly impressed, judging by the way he uses his grip in Leo's hair to shake him like a scruffed puppy.

"Fuck you, you fucking fuck," he says, articulate as ever, "Fuck me."

While Jason is fumbling about trying to first find and then pop the cap on the lube again with shaking hands, Leo takes a minute to roll his neck and shoulders back into settling before they get all cricked and then notices Jason's mostly-full beer still there on the side.

He takes a swig, kind of warm, and motions the neck of the bottle towards Jason. "You want some?"

"Think I'm already getting some," says Jason, looking all pleased with himself and his rapier wit and just, shut up, Jason.

He still opens his mouth, tongue out just a little, pink and quivery—"That's right," Leo says, voice thin at the edges—and stays still so Leo can pour it in without choking him, slowly so he can keep up and swallow. They've had plenty of practice at this, what with all not-dying they've been doing lately.

When Jason's had enough he tugs at Leo's wrist, presses his fingers into the pulse point. Leo pushes it a bit like he always does, keeps going just a little longer so Jason has to take a big gasping breath after he swallows it all.

"You're such a dick," Jason says, but his eyes are hot and blown and Leo can see his pulse ticking in his throat.

Leo at least tries to look a little sheepish. It's not wildly convincing.

There's a spilled droplet sliding down Jason's jaw, over the scars there. Leo leans in, licks it away.

Jason says, "Ugh, I want you so bad," and Leo doesn't know that he'll ever stop being slightly giddy over that. He grins.

Leo gives it to him short and dirty, not really pulling out, just grinding forward and forward and forward, _in-in-in,_ relentless and so good it's making his head spin, hard to keep his breath.

Jason pushes back as best he can on his back, calves hooked tightly over Leo's thighs for leverage and toes jammed into the backs of Leo's legs. Leo can feel them curl whenever he gets it right, and there's something bizarrely endearing about that.

"Ohhh," Jason says, and his hands splay out, grasping at Leo's ass to keep him so close, keep him from going anywhere, like that was even a possibility. He bites Leo's chin and licks demandingly at the swell of his bottom lip until Leo opens up and lets him in, pushing their mouths together roughly, wet and messy.

The wind sighs past outside and the football has ended unnoticed, shifting into post-game analysis with a load of talking heads.

Bracing himself on his other hand, Leo reaches down and traces the edge of Jason's hole, feeling where they're joined, where Jason is taking him in so nicely, hot and tight and sliding.

Jason makes a promising sound in his throat and tightens up.

Likewise, Leo moans a little into Jason's mouth as his fingertips brush his own dick and then, huh, wonders if he could maybe work his finger inside too, stroking curiously over slippery skin before putting just a little weight on Jason's rim, because he can't resist the idea now he's had it.

It gives ever so slightly, just this tiny shift of pressure, and Leo's belly goes all fluttery and molten, pulse throbbing low.

"You're gonna make me come early, dude, quit it," Jason says on a stuttered breath, smacking at Leo's back.

Further proof, if it were needed, that there is something seriously wrong with him.

"Oh, wow, so sorry," Leo says, pressing again, harder this time—Jason makes this sharp, urgent noise, sounding dangerously turned on and oh hey, he really wasn't kidding, note to self for another time—before easing off, slowing down even though it makes him want to shake to pieces.

"Step it up, Leo," Jason says, breathless but still trying to smirk, "Is that all you got for me?"

He's the worst, barely a minute ago he was bitching about coming too soon. Fine, then.

Leo sits back a little and slides his hand down the back of Jason's thigh, pulling it up and grabbing a rough handful of his ass, fingers spread wide and greedy.

He shakes it, _pay attention to me_, digging his nails in, and Jason knows what that means, says "Oh shit, _yeah_," all rushed and choppy before Leo slaps him sharply with the flat of his palm.

Jason jolts, shoulders jack-knifing up as his feet skid across the rucked sheets.

Everything clenches up reflexively, so tight that Leo has to slam his fist into the mattress and grit his teeth against the urge to drive in and to own, to destroy, balling up in his spine, but as soon as the unholy squeeze eases up he spanks Jason again and watches the shock-jiggle spread across lax muscle.

Jason's chest heaves as he determinedly relaxes down into it, body falling open and ready for Leo again almost like a dare. And if there's one thing Leo can't resist…

Leo really regrets that he can't go to town on Jason's ass right now, because Jason's so good at taking blows and it's so outrageously hot when he finally cracks. Sometimes he actually _whimpers. _Leo goes off like Vesuvius—sorry, Romans—when that happens.

As it is, Leo needs to get this show on the road. He thrusts in deep, gets a good rhythm going again, and waits for Jason to lose that anticipatory tenseness before he smoothes his hand soothingly over stinging hot skin, a false sense of security, and then slaps Jason one last time. He makes it a good one and really lets his wrist snap.

It connects with this obscene crack and Jason instantly loses it, folding in on himself and coming with a strangled groan that sounds like it's been ripped up from belly-deep. He looks faintly surprised about it, which would be hilarious if it wasn't also fucking incendiary.

"Jason," Leo says, "Jason, Jason," and oh god, Jason shot everywhere, creamed all the way up between their stomachs, "How am I supposed to, _Jason_—"

His hips shove forward, too soon, and Jason's eyes roll back in his head with a flash of the whites.

They kiss, kind of half-assed and breathless, until Leo can't handle staying still in the circling squeeze of Jason's body for even half a second longer and has to break away to lurch back into motion. Whatever, man, he's been so good. He pants into Jason's collarbone, humping away pretty gracelessly now.

Beneath him, Jason's just taking it, big hands wrapped around Leo's biceps and rocking back into him. He's twitching a little with aftershocks still. His mouth keeps dropping open dumbly, cheekbones hollowing; Jason likes being fucked after he's come, likes it when everything gets sharp and raw and intense, likes pushing himself too far.

No surprise there.

Oh, god. Leo's making tiny fretful noises high in his nose without even meaning to, hanging there in that claustrophobic space between built pleasure and orgasm, completely out of rhythm.

Jason curves one hand around the side of Leo's neck, slightly shaky fingers spreading over his nape and gripping tight and possessive. He pulls Leo lower, craning his own neck down until their noses touch and murmurs, "Going to give it up for me, babe?" against Leo's lips, all smug and filthy, "I want you to, c'mon."

It's a good thing Leo made his peace with being a sentimental idiot a long time ago, because after all the kinky shit, _that's_ what finishes him off, and this way he gets to enjoy it rather than waste time being embarrassed.

He shudders, full-body and ridiculous because it's balling out in his very core, heat and pressure and here we go. His belly draws up against the hot magenta flare as he comes with a groan like he's dying, whole body curving in to Jason. His jaw locks so hard he has to work it like he's taken a punch, a sparking ache under his chin.

_Fuck._

At last Leo drops his forehead to Jason's cheekbone, pouring with sweat and burning fever hot, and breathes heavily into his neck. Jason's panting a little, humid puffs of air against Leo's brow as he catches his breath.

"Urngh," Leo says, eloquently.

Probably he should get up before his muscles lock up, but Jason is slack underneath him, soft with fatigue and content to be petted for once, which never happens, and you know, moving just sounds like the worst idea ever.

They lie there until Jason slaps his ass, like, _good game_, and Leo laughs as he pulls out and rolls off.

He twists over to the bedside table and reaches out for Jason's beer again, takes a long draw before rolling back to offer the last of it to Jason. Sharing is caring, after all.

Jason's shifted to slump up against the headboard, legs still splayed indelicately and his belly and chest all mucked up with smeared spunk. There's some of it almost behind his ear even, which Leo purposefully, uh, declines to mention.

He looks considering, eyes so huge and blue.

"What?" Leo says, shaking the bottle a little so the liquid slops against the sides, carbonation fizzing to life again invitingly.

Jason moves his hand, but he doesn't take the beer like Leo's expecting, no; instead he drops it to frame his asshole again—just like before, when Leo came back from the door—and tugs a little at his rim with the tips of his fingers. Leo doesn't miss the flinch-clenching shudder, the way Jason's hips jump, and he must be so sensitive now, nerves shocky.

It doesn't stop him. He's loose, fingers slipping in so easily in the slow, ticklish trickle of Leo's—oh, gods give him strength—Leo's come.

That part's still new, but Leo doesn't know that he'll ever get used to it, can't help the almost hurt sound that escapes his throat, tight and bruised-feeling.

Somewhere down the hall a door slams. Jason's mouth quirks.

"Come on, Leo," he says. "Clean up your mess."


End file.
